


Cantillation

by EarlGreyLeaf



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Biting, Fingerfucking, M/M, Masturbation, Nook, Xeno, Xenobiology, bulge and nook, getting caught, tentabulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 09:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarlGreyLeaf/pseuds/EarlGreyLeaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You aren’t familiar with troll customs.  You have a shaky knowledge of their fucked-up foursome thing, you know they aren’t really particular about the dangly bits, and you know that soda is like crack to them.   Other than that, not much.  However, some apparently blissfully ignorant part of you thought that they knew to fucking knock before coming into a room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cantillation

**Author's Note:**

> Been meaning to pen this for a while. Based on an rp from Parp.
> 
> Update: Holy shit, ya'll. 18 kudos, some comments and over 300 hits in less than 12 hours. ily5evr.

You aren’t familiar with troll customs.

You have a shaky knowledge of their fucked-up foursome thing, you know they aren’t really particular about the dangly bits, and you know that soda is like crack to them.   Other than that, not much.  However, some apparently blissfully ignorant part of you thought that they knew to fucking _knock_ before coming into a room.  Especially when the door is shut.

So when your best troll-bro slash loudmouthed headache flings your door open with a _‘DAVE!  Rose told me you were in here,‘_ you promptly freak the fuck out.

Your sheets are up around your neck like a fucking nun’s habit, and you think your heart may have stopped.  Great.  Cardiac arrest.  Death by goddamn heart attack in the middle of your personal Dave-on-Dave time.  Because trolls.

“ _Jesus fuck_ , _Karkat_ -” you wheeze, “What the _HELL_.”

The troll in question stops just past your door, eyes flown wide, “Uh-“

You twist your hips what you hope is discreetly away from his line of sight.  Your cheeks are on fucking fire, and you hope to God he hasn’t got a clue, “You don’t just go strolling into a guy’s place like that!”

It takes a moment, but you can tell from the slow creep of red over his cheeks that you’ve been found out.  Shit.

“Fucking-” he stares, and you catch his eyes when they flick quickly to your lap.  His posture goes rigid, and he fumbles the doorknob, “Fuck, what even- Er.  I just, sorry-”

You run a hand through your hair, and he glances off.  Fidgets with his sleeve.  You take a moment to pull the comforter up, too, so you’ll feel less exposed.  There’s a moment of silence in which you wonder why the hell he’s still in your doorway.

“…In my defense, you didn’t lock the goddamned door.”

Oh.  Well shit.  Yeah, that was a thing you could have done.

You mumble some reply, and sit upright against your pillows.  He shuffles.  You’re getting pretty uncomfortable, and the damn panic attack didn’t stifle the ridiculous amount of hormones taking over your brain as much as you would’ve liked, so you clear your throat, “So, uh… What did you need anyway?”

Karkat scratches the back of his neck, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and for a split second, you wonder what it tastes like, “I needed to find the mayor.  He sort of hobbled off this morning, but it’s no big deal, he always comes back, anyway.”

You hum.  Silence.

When he makes no move, you start to get frustrated, “Um, well.  I kind of need to, you know-” you gesture downwards, hoping he gets the fucking hint, “…take care of this.”

The troll’s blush darkens.  He coughs behind a fist, glaring off to the side, other hand tight-knuckled on the door handle.  You raise an irritated eyebrow, “Well?”

“R-right, I’ll just…” he glances everywhere but at you, taking a few shaky steps back, and door clicks shut behind him, leaving you blessedly _alone_.

You flop back with a burdened sigh, scooting back down under your sheets and throwing a forearm over your face.  The other hand rests on you hip, tracing little circles on your over-sensitive skin.  Your hips roll, and your hand moves further down.

At least it doesn’t take you long to get back into it.  It’s not a few seconds before you are once again pumping yourself, contained groans vibrating in your lungs, and fisting the sheets with your free hand.  Your eyes slam shut, and you _can nearly feel it-_

Your door crashes open and you start with enough force to knock your shades askew.

“GodFUCKINGDAMMIT-”

You bring a fist down onto the mattress in rage, on the verge of tears.  The asshole is in your doorway again, and if he weren’t so fucking good looking, you would punch him right in the face, but Hell, maybe you’ll do it anyway just to teach the bastard.

That train of thought shorts out, dying with a flicker as the ass in question stomps purposefully across the empty space to your bedside.  You stare up at him, completely lost, because apparently trolls also don’t understand that you don’t do this shit when someone’s-

Oh.

_Oh._

His lips are warm.  And aggressive.  Your eyes are insanely wide behind the black lenses, and your hands fist and go numb by your sides.  After a moment, you decide it’s not half bad.

He tastes like popcorn, probably from the ‘Romcom Night’ he just had with John, which you had been more than happy to avoid.  You test him and bite his lip.  Butter.  He makes a choked sound that you immediately decide you want more of.

Grinning against his mouth, you drag him down and roll.  Going by the owlish blinks, he really wasn’t expecting that.  You straddle his thighs, reclaiming his lips, and make work of his shirt.  It flies off into some corner of your room.

He’s groaning deliciously into your mouth as you press him back down.  You kiss his flushed chest, dropping an occasional bites that makes him squirm, “D-Dave...”

You try to make some smart comment, but hiss instead, hips jerking slightly as a fevered hand closes around you, “S-shit, ah-”

The corner of his mouth twitches, and you know he’s proud that he got you to drop the ‘stoic prick’ act, and damned if you care, because his hand feels fucking amazing.

You buck into his fist, rocking him a little.  He whimpers, hips wriggling against yours, and you want his pants gone right fucking _then_.  Your teeth find the junction of neck and shoulder, and you growl out ‘ _pants off,_ ’ a command which he is more than happy to follow.  He struggles for a moment, nearly kneeing your stomach in to process, and they, too, vanish over the side of the bed.

You discover underwear apparently isn’t a thing for trolls.  You don’t care.

You do, however, wonder just what the fuck that thing between Karkat’s legs is.

Apparently he senses your dilemma, because his eyes crack open and he snaps at you, “What the fuck is the _problem_ , Strider?”

It’s your turn to blink, “What is that.”

He rolls his eyes, “That’s my _bulge_ , you dumb fuck.”

“Is it supposed to do that?” And by ‘that,’ you mean curl of its own freakish accord around your fingertips.  He buries his face in his hand, grumbling, “ _Yes,_ it’s supposed to do that.  Godammit,you are an insensitive assholmmpff-”

You shut him up by mashing your mouths together again, and his animosity dissolves.  Nudging his legs apart, you settle more comfortably between them, letting his weird alien dick-thing wriggle around your fingers.  You hand is steadily becoming slicker, and you moan.  Fuck, that’s actually really hot.

You managed to get your hand around it, tightening your fingers and pumping firmly.  His breath catches, curses slipping through his gritted teeth into the air between you.  You’re feeling cocky now and bite down on his neck again.  The sound he makes is fucking musical.

His thin arms worm their way around your shoulders, blunt nails digging into your back when you stroke him again. And again.

“A-ah, _nn-!_ ”

There’s a sudden wetness against one of your knees and you make a third discovery.

Trolls are double equipped.

This time, Karkat’s irritated noise sounds more desperate than he probably intended.  You shush him, reassuring him that you’re just getting used to it.  Fuck, you’ve never actually messed around with one of them before.  You’ve barely even done anything with your _own_ species.  Hoping like hell that they at least react the same way, one of your fingers wanders down to what you assume from listening to them is his ‘ _nook_ ,’ dragging through the thick liquid that’s starting to seep onto the blankets.

He fucking _sings_.

A mess of incohent words tumbles from his mouth and his head falls to the side.  Well, you’re doing something right.  Feeling a bit bolder, you let the finger dip inside him, only to the second knuckle, and withdraw.  Karkat’s hips jolt, trying to find your touch, but you pin them roughly down.  A shocked little sound bubbles up from his marked throat.

You chuckle.  His hands are twisted into the pillow next to his reddened face, stomach fluttering in tiny, impatient shivers.  You add a second finger, then a third, and watch in painfully aroused awe as he descends into a quivering mess.

You lean over him, propping yourself on an arm.  A grey eye cracks open under knitted brows.  He frowns, “Wh- _ah_ -at?”

“Nothing,” you grin, “Enjoying the view.”

“Ass.” he grunts.  You kiss him.

Your fingers twist and scissor, and his loud groan goes straight to your nethers.  His bulge has tangled itself around your wrist like a fleshy gauntlet and it’s making your arm slimy, but you don’t mind.  You’re too focused on the ashen hand the slithers back down to fumble with your shaft.  You shift your hips with a low moan.

You fuck Karkat’s hand at a steady pace, pantomiming the action with your fingers, and it’s driving him crazy.  He growls, sinking his pointed teeth into your lip.  Your fingers curl, and he curses through broken panting.

Pumping them into him, you can feel him tighten slightly and you know he’s close.  Your determination spikes, wanting him to come for you, hear your name spill from those swollen lips in low groans, so it makes you all the more frustrated when he seizes your wrist, stopping your movements with a rushed, “W-wait, no, _stop_ …”

You roll your eyes, “What?”

“Just,” he mumbles through breaths, “I want…”

“Come on, dude, I can’t read your mind.”  He’s firmly refusing to meet your gaze, so you wiggle your fingers tauntingly.  He gasps through his teeth, “Ugh, alright, fine.  I want you... to _fuck me_.”

You stare.

“Really?”

He growls again, “Godammit, Strider, put your weird human bulge inside me now, or I swear I- _ah!_ ”  The harsh bite to his shoulder cuts him off.  You draw back, sitting up slightly, and run a hand down Karkat’s thigh.  He shudders.  “Hey, I’m totally fine with that, it’s just not something I was expecting to hear, like, _ever_.”

You slide you sticky fingers out of him and his hips twitch for a moment, wanting the feeling back.  When you press the head of your cock against his opening, however, he whimpers loudly.  You tease him, using your other hand to lightly pump his bulge.

“Nn, fuckDave _please-_ ”

Your smirk widens, and you indulge him, hissing lowly as you push into him.  He throws his head back, a choked noise catching in his exposed throat, and you swallow it down greedily in a kiss.

You rock together, curses spilling into the heated air.  In one of your last moments of clarity, you’re thanking fuck that your room is in one of the further wings, because it’s not like he’s even _trying_ to be quiet.  You don’t have time to think about the possibility of consequences, of anyone hearing, before your vision starts to evanesce and your stomach coils.

“Nng, Karkat, I’m-“

He wails the most beautiful version of your name you’ve ever heard, and you’re gone.

It’s several minutes before the both of you begin to recover.  Your cheek is against his chest, eyes closed and panting.  His soft breaths fall upon your ears, and you’re both so _warm._   You glance up at him, and a little jolt goes through you when his hooded eyes peer back.  You flow with the rise and fall of his ribcage, blessedly worn and thoughtless.

When you find the strength, you roll off him, sprawling on the chaotic sheets.  He’s tucked against you in seconds, throwing an arm over your waist, but not before making a face at the viscid mess on your stomachs, “Eugh, Strider, I’m not laying in this.”

You snort and pull him close, “Shut up and sleep.”

Squeaking quietly, he grumbles and caves, nuzzling tiredly against you.


End file.
